This is just to say that we love you. Also, to say some other things. We are Andrew and Elliah, the co-Culture editors for the Yale Herald, Yale’s most daring publication since 1986. The thing is, we were completely smitten with your 2010 meta-punk-post-post-rock-Civil-War-concept-album-epic The Monitor. Its blazing guitars, Bruce Springsteen homages, and lack of melody had us head over heels. Also we loved it because it was so angsty. But it was so amazingly huge we weren’t sure how you could possibly follow it up.
When we first heard you had an album in the works, we were wary. But luckily, we have a strong passion for local enterprise, so when we heard that your album was titled Local Business, we were immediately intrigued. It is different—very different—but even if it might not be as loud and war-themed as The Monitor, it’s just as big an album, if not bigger.
To start, we’d like to thank you for establishing “that everything is inherently worthless” in your opening song, “Ecce Homo.” This album is every bit as over-the-top angsty as The Monitor was, and our inner teens love you for it. But this time around, the music doesn’t quite match the lyrics. When you were shouting to your “baby” that you were “born to die” on The Monitor, your music sounded like it was slowly killing you. Here, though, we had a groovy dance party to the song about your eating disorder. From the Dookie-era Green Day moment on “Still Life With Hot Deuce on Silver Platter” to the really white, Kinks-style “(I Am The) Electric Man”, this shit really rocks, but in a more tender way. The music is laid back, as much fierce punk as it is suburban fuzz—and we say two thumbs up!
We applaud your cohesiveness. So what if the first three songs (or all of them) kind of sound the same? And are in the same key basically? It’s totally cool, because it just kind of works, ya know?
But how do we know? Well, lets just say Elliah started playing the album last night, and the next thing he knew it was morning time, his computer full of 10 pages of nonsensical poetry, with an empty box of dried papaya on his lap. And that’s what great music does to you.
So cheers, Titus Andronicus. Cheers.
Andrew and Elliah